Missing you

I’m away on business for three days.

And I miss you. Simple as.


You’re my downfall, you’re my muse
My worst distraction, my rhythm and blues
I can’t stop singing, it’s ringing, in my head for you


I’m not being rude


As I was boarding an early bird plane this morning I heard someone berating people who constantly wear earphones. Oops. 

I may be guilty of this ‘sin’ but it’s not because I’m antisocial or rude although I suppose it looks that way.  Maybe if you knew why, perhaps you wouldn’t be so quick to judge?  

Today music is my commuting companion.  Living with anxiety makes travelling, a necessary aspect of my work, particularly nightmarish. As I write this I’m trapped in exit seat E, between two black suited, bearded men. I’m feeling terrified as we go through turbulence, resisting the urge to grab one of them and hold on tightly as we plunge to our death!! 

Music to me, is as important as that life jacket under my seat. 

I have quite a few other coping mechanisms I could employ but 6am is a little too early for alcohol and knives are taken off you at check in so self harming isn’t an option! 

Which brings me to earphones. Music literally keeps me alive. Voices weave their way into my brain and I become the story. Melodies rush through my blood and magic me onto the manuscript where they were birthed. I breathe the song, my eyes close and my fears fade as my body pulsates with the harmonies. I am drawn into another world that isn’t my dark and hopeless one. My heart beats in time to the drums, semi tones soothe, major chords compliment my minor mojo and quavers run like a river over my quivering anxiety. 

I don’t expect you to understand. But please, don’t be so quick to judge, I’m living as best I can. I’m not being rude. I’m surviving. 

What am I searching for?

Why is nothing ever good enough? 

I’ve been working flat out for ten months towards an inspection in work and we didn’t just pass it, we smashed it!  All expectations were met and exceeded and I received countless emails and phone calls of giddy congratulations from Tom, Dick and Steve (the company’s CEO!). You’d think I’d be happy, elated and jolly proud of myself.  Don’t be ridiculous!!! As soon as the inspection was over I felt like a rubbish, wrinkly, deflated balloon. Worse than that. I was depressed and demotivated.  I found it hard to focus and while others were overjoyed I was immensely underwhelmed and feeling extremely ‘meh’! 

Today follows a similar pattern. I’ve been training for 8 weeks to run 5k. I’ve found it hard, lonely, boring at times, overwhelming as I deal with ill mental health and it’s been bloody difficult.  But ‘ta daaaaa’!!! Today I ran the race. I secured my first shiny, gold medal and my running friend keeps on ‘well done-ing’ me! Apparently I should be proud of myself?!!?  But nope. Not one iota of me is pleased. I’m disappointed with my pace and panicking about what comes next!  I feel decidedly ‘meh’ again and the lonely medal hanging on my bedroom wall brings me no sense of satisfaction whatsoever!  Sitting in a corner crying right now feels like an attractive course of action to take!  Haven’t I achieved the previously unachievable?  Shouldn’t I celebrate?!! 

All I know is I’m empty inside. Hollow.  And the sound of success clangs and echoes in my sad heart. What is it I’m searching for?  

Why do I leap and bound from one high to another, craving exhilaration, intensity and adrenaline? 

What is it that really fulfills me and meets my needs? Flicks a switch in me, makes me wake up with a smile on my face and satisfies me?  Brings laughter and joy?  What is my muse? What fills me with love? I can’t figure that out so these mumblings go unanswered. But maybe if you’ve ever felt like this you can shed some light on the topic for me?

Meanwhile I’m off to plan my next adventure!

Running out of the dark

I’m a determined fecker’ was the answer when I asked my friend how on earth he can run ULTRA marathons!! 

‘You just put one foot in front of the other’, he said casually. 

Sure we could all run 50k on a daily basis if that were the case!  Tomorrow I attempt, and I mean attempt, to run a teensy weensy 5k. How pathetic in comparison! I’ve been ‘training’ for 8 weeks and to be generous to myself, I’ve done quite well as I couldn’t run the length of myself 8 weeks ago-I’m not that tall either so that’s an extremely embarrassing confession. (It’s as well no one reads this blog!). 

5k is literally a short walk in the park for my ultra marathon friend but I suspect, for me, it’ll be more like climbing Everest! 

Mostly due to the fact that this week has been riddled with health issues for me. Apart from my mental darkness, I’m fighting a raging sore throat and ears and the urge to sleep all day tomorrow with lots of pain relief numbing me. As well as that joy, my jaw spasmed two weeks ago, whilst munching on a pizza. (Oh what a good pizza it was though!). That spasm has spread down my neck into my back and despite physiotherapy yesterday, sedatives, muscle relaxants and a massage today I’m still nursing a hot water bottle on my face and surviving on a liquid diet. 

Not ideal eh?  I’m not expecting to win any trophies tomorrow, IF I do run.

So what’s in it for me?  Over the last 8 weeks I’ve been setting myself targets, meeting them, and setting more. Despite my atrocious mental health right now I plan, I hope, to run tomorrow. Despite the pain in my face, neck and back, I plan to run tomorrow because it’s only a matter of putting one foot in front of the other. And that’s how my days go when I’m in this dark place. One footstep at a time and before I know it I’ve lived another day. Bring on tomorrow because I too am a determined fecker!  

Will you still love me?

Will you still love me when I’m 90?  You promised me you would. 

When my hands are frail and fragile, I’ll remember those times I held on so tight to yours that you had to tell me to let go. 

When my arms are weak and pale, memories of yours will always send a tingle down my spine. 

My blue eyes will still have much to say as you gaze back at me, hopefully still entranced. 

When my legs can’t teeter in high heels anymore, I’ll close my eyes and think of your hand resting on my thigh. 

As I stroke your face I’ll remember the days your stubble prickled my palm.  

When we laugh because we’ve forgotten the date I know I’ll never forget the crazy conversations we used to have. 

As we look back at the dreams we dreamt, at least we will have each other no matter how they worked out. 

Will I still be your baby girl, as I rest my wise, tired head on your shoulder? 

Will you still love me when I’m 90?  You promised me you would. 

Points mean Prizes

I awoke this morning, eyes wide open, with a sense of intrepidation and fear.  It was D-day as I had an appointment at 915am with my boss to carry out the dreaded annual appraisal! This painful process puts my performance under the microscope and requires ME to score myself, firstly and then BE scored-horror of horrors!!!I find it very uncomfortable, kind of akin to hugging a cactus, a preferable activity, believe me.

For over an hour I squirmed in my spinny, seat as I was coerced into judging my own capabilities. 

Was I a rubbish 1, a less than average 2, a capable 3 or an exceptional 4. If so then why? Give examples, scenarios, prove why you’re worth your points. Sell yourself, show off, shine your light. 

*insert face palm* I was living in my worst nightmare and it took little over an hour for me to crawl out of it without appearing cocky but commandeering as many 4s as possible!  

Points mean prizes in our workplaces, the gym, friendships, church, school….In fact everywhere we interact with people, we judge them, score them and rate them, often in comparison to our own adventures. It’s sickening isn’t it. I’m sick of it. I’m tired and worn out. Exhausted.Physically and mentally ill.  

Teetering on the edge of insanity I called in with a friend tonight. I hadn’t seen her for three months and we only had 10 minutes together but with her encouragement it was enough time for me to pour out my heart to her. Properly. Honestly. Without the frills and fanfares, without the bells and whistles. I just laid it before her in all its rancid ugliness.

And as she hugged me goodbye she uttered the words that I never hear,I love you. Just the way you are.’

‘No one else does’, I sobbed.

And that feels like my reality. In a world where points mean prizes I just might have a friend who doesn’t live like that. And she wants me in her world just the way I am. That is the most precious prize of all and to that I cling, for all my life is worth.  

Chocolate Box

It’s often said that life is like a box of chocolates. You never know what treat will tickle your taste buds as you randomly reach in for a delight.

When you suffer from depression however the chocolates never change, the box remains the same and every sweet is sour, no matter how pretty it looks.

I carry a huge, unbearable weight of pain. Anxiety is high, panic levels increased and my heart breaks with sadness unspeakable. What causes depression? The ‘fixers’ in my life want to know WHY I’m particularly down but I’m unable to give one reason. Maybe 20. But not one. Because if it was that easy then I wouldn’t be suffering in the first place, would I?

Today however for a grand total of 10 magical, minutes I did feel mildly elated! This humongous, grandiose box of rich chocolates was delivered with a card to my work as a congratulations for some hard work we’ve done recently. It was pounced upon like a hundred buzzards swooping down upon a field mouse. Shouts of glee and cries of amazement could be heard coming from the kitchen and yes, I joined in, choosing my favourites and wondering if a tiramisu choccie would put me over the legal alcohol limit for driving! I was so ‘happy’. For approx 10 minutes. And then it hit me again, like a wrecking ball.

An over-satisfied, sickly tummy full of cocoa doesn’t help at all. Listening to music makes me ache. Exercise gives a momentary sense of achievement. Plunging myself into my work distracts for a while but dear God won’t you just lift the curse off? For good. Once and for all? Because if this is life then…it’s too hard. I don’t know how to bear anymore and I see no end to the hell.

Meanwhile, I’ll have another chocolate.